Original Thought, The Prophet II (A Shady Sequel)

prophet

 

What? Another sequel? Sequels are never as good as the original. Then again what the Hell is ever as good as the original? But wait, is it original? Now there’s a thought. But is it an original thought? Some say there is no such thing as original thought because someone somewhere has more than likely had that same thought before. Come to think about it I think I heard that somewhere before. In a way I guess that’s true of course, Tommy Edison gets credit for the light bulb but others claim it was discovered either simultaneously or perhaps even slightly before by someone else. Either way that light bulb has not only spawned generations of ideas it has become the icon of an idea itself. Why one just went off in a thought cloud above my head. But was it original?

Scientists (or is it romantics?) tell us no two snowflakes are exactly alike but I personally find that impossible to believe. What possible kind of study could possibly encompass every snowflake ever? The friggen things melt before ever being checked and logged into the snowflake database. Or is it a snowflake genetic information storage cloud or frozen genome, its so hard to keep track of all this damn information! Some icy flakes haven’t even been created yet so it’s a bit premature to say no two snowflakes are alike. All things considered I’m confidant at least two of those snowflakes in that Alaskan snow drift must be clones. So I will attempt to put original thought into my warped and frivolous snowflake perspective by doing what any original artist would do. I’ll steal it. Or borrow it at least, so this perspective is brought to you in original conceptual form inspired (and ripped off) of a book by the brilliant Lebanese laureate Kahlil Gibran. The Prophet.

The Un-original But Still New Prophet

And then a musician came to him and said “speak to us of music, how is our music not original?” And he answered “Music invades our sensory organs through repetitive and sometimes annoying arrangements of sound. Because we have only 12 notes in every octave it is extremely difficult to create a melody that hasn’t yet been played either in ones mind or on an instrument. Combine that with the fact most of us have been listening to music since our first lullaby and have no doubt watched enough television to have jingles burned deeply into our psyches that its impossible not to be influenced by tunes we have heard before when we create music. One could pick up a guitar to start playing something perhaps having just heard that “Nationwide is on your side” commercial and unconscientiously letting the tune drift into what one was translating from mind through the guitar strings. That’s not to say that you can’t make an original song, but it must have come to you from somewhere in your past listening.” It’s called inspiration. Perhaps artists should be wondering where they came up with an original before accusing others of stealing their originals. Music is meant to be shared, and if you want to call yourself a musician do so without believing you invented sound itself. (Disclaimer: I do not take legal responsibly if the Nationwide jingle is bouncing around in your head right now)

And then a poet came to him and said “speak to us of poetry, are not poets original?” And he answered, “Poetry is a way of painting words into feelings and emotions. Poets help us to see ourselves in their flowing word canvas. We are all born poets, it’s just that far too many of us forget that once we grow up and allow our creative thoughts to integrate with the clutter of day to day bullshit. Poets observe and report through the eyes of creative pureness. Poems range in style and can be crystal clear to some while totally indiscernible to others. It is meant to be felt and understood not analyzed. Poetry is an expression of the soul often written while at our most naked and vulnerable selves, when we express our innermost thoughts in words. In that respect it is original, but are not words merely combinations of letters? We have only 26 letters from which to choose our order yet somehow we manage to confuse the usage of English language. But their there they’re, everything will be fine. You poets are indeed original human beings with fragile ego’s so for the sake of avoiding another few years of therapy then yes, poetry is indeed original. But remember it’s the receiver of the poet’s message who perceives the originality not the poet.” It’s called inspiration.o

 

 

Next a shady Politian came forward and said to him “Speak to us of politics. Are not all of my political ideas original?” And after regaining his composure from sarcastic laughing the prophet answered, “Politics and political opinions are like unwashed armpits. If you stay at home with them you can handle the stench of your own opinion but if you venture out in public best to deodorize your opinions if you value friendships. Its impossible for one to have their own original political opinion because every controversy known to humanity has been discussed, re-discussed, and-over-discussed a million times without an answer. Whatever stance you choose to take has already been taken. In addition, millions and millions of dollars have been spent to tell you what your opinion on various political topics are either through subliminal ads or motivational scam artists disguised as news agents with television shows who’s sole purpose is to anger you into an opinion based strictly on your religion and/or political party of choice. That is not to say you can’t have an original non political opinion of your own but to do that you would need to research the subject through trustworthy methods of information, then sit alone with only your thoughts and think it through. Devoid of outside influences if you concentrate long enough it is indeed possible to arrive at an original conclusion, but it is extremely difficult with all the information super highways and abundance of social media outlet trolls prowling around in the hopes of forcing their opinion upon you. Otherwise we simply verbally regurgitate someone else’s spoken thoughts.” That would be inspiring. In my opinion of course.

Next a scientist came to the Prophet and asked, “Why is there religion when we have science? Is not The Origin Of The Species truly original? I mean it‘s right there in the title” The prophet shook his head. Every species contains originalities specific to that species but humans have an option between science and religion. Both religion and science serve a purpose for humanity. Science it the study of the world around us and religion is the study of ourselves. Science helps us to understand how and why things work but it can’t explain everything. It is based on testing and re-testing data to prove hypothesis and formulate conclusions. Religion attempts to help teach us about who we are, how we should treat one another, and to love all creatures great and small. Science is like a pesky mosquito to religion that becomes more and more difficult to swat. It‘s a clash of philosophies, ideology vrs. Cause and effect”

“The main problem religion faces in this context is most times it’s not a choice, more of a birthright. Often ones religion is determined by their parents or by nature of where they are born and they become defined by their rituals and beliefs. So religion is given, not original beliefs that spontaneously combust. (not counting Moses flaming bush) Religion is philosophical set of tenets based on faith not experimentations as does science. One must have faith that the religion they are following has all the correct answers, and the leaders of that religion who give those answers are interpreting the holy texts correctly. One Bible or Torah or Koran can be interpreted in many different ways which give us a massive variety of religions. We have used religion to explain the unexplainable since the dawn of time, assigning gods to nearly everything in nature. So it is useful in explaining the unexplainable and in teaching people how to act correctly as it applies to living together on earth when done correctly. If your religion includes science and instructs you on how to interact with the world then you are indeed lucky, and may possibly have found a true religion. If on the other hand you have become enlightened and reached a state of living that excludes the need for a conglomerate of teachings and beliefs you are even more lucky, because you can appreciate others beliefs while not allowing them to infect yours.” So religion is helpful in adjusting your soul and science is helpful if adjusting your knowledge. You must strike your own balance, but do us all a favor. Don’t attempt to force either upon the rest of us, let us all find our own way. Since the dawn of organized religion they have been perverted into excuses to create wars. If you take a scientific approach and analyze history as it applies to wars you will find just about every war has a religious contention at it’s core. You can’t kill your way to peace.”

And then a child came to him and asked “Well then Prophet, if musicians, poets, scientists, and theologians all contend they deal in originality and may perhaps be wrong then what exactly is original thought and how do we achieve it? Do we learn it in school?” The profit thought cautiously before he answered “Let us start with what’s not original thought. Original thought is not learned in a school or institution. Education is a great thing and though it may seem empowering it can’t give you original thought it can only prepare you for it . Many of the young hipsters of the day believe that being able to quote famous philosphers or scientists makes them appear smarter than others because they possess the power of original thought but it doesn’t. It only makes them seem arrogant and out of touch. Education only gives us the foundations to develop original thought. The very second we enter the world we are being shaped by those around us. So to begin with we need to discard all the distractions of life. In order to achieve original thought you must put down the books, turn off all your electronic devices, and reach deep inside the self and get in touch with your soul, for it is the soul that is the one true original. Get educated then be your own inspiration. An open mind will show some ignorance but a closed mind will show all of it.” Meditate on that….. PEACE

 

 

 

Forgotten How To Care

abandoned_playground_by_questa_durron

 

 

Where do the unfortunate children live?

Charred basements

Broken windows

Hinge less doors

Cracked walls

Torn up floors

Abandoned palaces

Way beyond our gated paradises

Far away so we won’t have to see

 

 

 

 

Where do the unfortunate children play?

Septic swamplands

Dead grass

Scorched earth

Forgotten swing sets

Junkyard Hell

Running on decay

Chewing paint chips

Shredded promise soufflé

Far away

Not near you

Hidden from our guarded suburbs

 

 

If we sweep them under the rug will they still exist?

Can we hide them away from where the moneys made?

Shield us from their tears

Remove their squalor from our sight

Pretend they’re not still here

Hide away their despair

Where we never have to see them

Where we no longer look

Yet still hear them cry

Without listening

Without asking why

 

 

Why should I have to share what’s mine just because their lazy

Its not my problem not my fault

Let someone else foot their bills

Let someone else buy their shoes

Put food into their bellies

Shelter them from storms

The big game is on TV tonight

My fridge is full of excuses

I have no time to hear the plight

Let me watch the latest shows

Not some documentary to remind me I once cared

At a time when I believed in caring

 

 

 

 

Anyway that was a long time ago

I was filled with lofty ideals then

In youth I believed in so much

It seemed we all had a dream

A vapor really

Breath on glass

Bold and large

Mirror dreams

Wiped away with self ambition

Dissipated with fumes of self indulgences

Into nothing

Compassion disappeared from my looking glass

Leaving a reflection of myself

The face of one who forgot

A face of shame

No salary can buy it away

No ambition can veil the self contempt

No status symbol can wash away regret

Of forgetting how to care

Shame on those of us who abandon our hidden neighbors

So wrapped up in ourselves

That we have forgotten how to care

Remember the days

we all promised

To lend hand

To wipe their tears

 

 

Peace

 

Torn Out Page

torn

 

From the book of me

A page torn

Of a life forlorn

Sipping on scorn

Swallowing thorns

A torn out page

From a book of rage

Much too full of age

And too short on sage

 

No matter how fast my legs may take me

The past sneaks behind as if to forsake me

When I think it has left its still there behind me

With a lightning flash searing it blinds me

Filling my pages with misguided dreams

Promises made were not what they seemed

 

 

 

The days of my youth

Define me as reckless

Ill thought plans

My mirror reflection

The heart of rebellion

The brains of a fool

Trying to be popular

Hoping to be cool

Living in consequence

Doing my time

Running away

But its always behind

But time catches up in fiery vengeance

Rifts made so deep no time can mend it

A constant reminder of all I have been

Swimming is whisky dancing with sin

Young and naïve not taking life serious

All that enthusiasm made me delirious

Times heals superficial leaving pain deep inside

A future to outrun with a past I can’t hide

But one thing I have learned

The pain doesn’t stay

It may seem eternal

But it slithers away

Leaving a trail

Scars in our hearts

Tattooed on our souls

Etched on our parts

Ashen and pale

We look to the sky

Unreachable goals

So why even try

 

Look in my eyes soaked profound in despair

Eyes deep of wrinkle and a head without hair

Life is just a wisp of breath like vapors on a mirror

The older your eyes the more you see clearer

Truths are written if my orbs can stay open

Until the breath dissipates erasing times slogan

 

 

The story of a life

From start to finish

Written on the wind

Like words in a scrimmage

Once the protagonist

Now just a viewer

The nights they get longer

As the days become fewer

Spirit and sage on every stage

Acting the fool and feeling the rage

When the last chapter rises

Revealing a crisis

Just a torn out page

Time spent in a cage

Looking to be free

Of myself

That’s me

An anecdote in the rain

Gathering pain

As it runs down the drain

Sometimes life sucked

My arms holding sin

Belly full of gin

Never knowing where to begin

Or how to lose or how to win

Living stagnant

Dying slow

Here’s where its at

Take my advice let it go

 

 

Life sucks so suck it up

Stop whining about life and change it

Only you can rearrange it

Don’t be a drag

Make your life what you want

Or hoist the white flag

 

Live for today….Peace

 

Vote For Me And I’ll Set You Free

vote

 

Yea brothers and sisters, The Existential Baker is considering a run for the Whitehouse. I mean why not? I’m all about change and that’s pretty much what we all want isn’t it? We don’t need politicians, entertainers, or CEO’s to tell us the government is broken, we are all intelligent enough to figure that out ourselves. The government cracked the exact same time the Liberty Bell did but its become more of a huge rift than a crack. Look what’s going on today, people are cheering for what may very well become the first Insulter In Chief of the nation. They’re using messages of anger, hate, and name calling to incite us into making ridiculous decisions just because it will be a change. Do you want change only for the sake of change? Fuck it guys, I could be that change just as easily as a reality show host that is based on deception like all reality shows, a doctor, a CEO, or another same old same old Politian. The difference is I’ll be honest because I‘m not backed by any big business. Truth is, no big business in its right mind would give me a second look. One hell of good a credential when you really think about it.

I mean seriously, look at all the presidential contenders. They look, dress, and talk like they are already for their position in Disney’s Hall Of Presidents. Are you telling me the country couldn’t be run by a group of mellow headed people in tee shirts and sandals better than those dressed in the Wall Street Military uniforms of uniformity ? We’re nothing but votes to those freshly dry cleaned suit wearers, they couldn’t care less about our personal struggles unless we might make good sound bites in their State Of The Union addresses. They are all for alternative fuel while accepting campaign contributions from big oil companies. A candidate backed by war profiteers and tax shelter seeking billionaires. No taxing the rich, no giveaways to the poor, no relief for the “working class”. What is the working class anyway? Someone working a minimum wage job to feed their family is still a worker, just not in the same class as those a little better off. Trickle down economics trickles into the banks of the rich and then disappears. All that money spent on elections someone has to be owing someone else an awful lot of favors. But they will reward us by halting immigration. They have plans to stop immigration so long as their families and servants are already legal. They tell you what you want to hear, what you think the solution is and make you think it was their idea to begin with. They will pamper the religious masses just to kiss their asses and get their vote. Once elected they don’t care but I still will. Vote for me AND I’LL set you free!

Hey, heres some good news guys, they all want to make sure that healthcare insurance companies cover Viagra, but God forgive you if you use your savings to buy condoms, they won’t be covered. Neither will birth control pills ladies, put some cheap aspirin between your legs and deal with your hard man the way God intended. On your knee’s. Check it out, its in the bible somewhere. And if it isn’t they’ll find a scripture that can be bent just enough to in sinuate it. So they are happy to get your man hard for you but please don’t come to our healthcare plans for your “lady problems” like unwanted pregnancies or other “crazy women issues.” Just keep your man happy and hard and while your on your knees say a little prayer to God to apologize for being so……slu….Um, Forward.

So you ask why should you vote for me? Aren’t I one of those tree hugging liberal hippies? Your Goddamn right I’m a tree hugger! Those fucking tree’s give us oxygen, give homes to millions of species of birds and other animals, offer fruits and nuts for all to eat, and they go on and on through harsh winters, brutally dry summers, winds, rains, and whatever nature can throw at them and they still stand tall exuding life giving assistance for anything and everything. When the mighty tree’s do die, they take it on themselves to nourish Mother Earth herself. If that doesn’t deserve a hug I don’t know what does! Am I a tree hugger? Hell yes motherfuckers I am a tree hugger, the bigger question is are you, and if not, why not!

So that’s Why I am considering running for president, because I believe Americans deserve better than the crap choices being offered today. Choosing the lesser of two evils is still an evil. Don’t buy their horseshit phony plans of keeping us wealthy and secure, all they are selling is the illusion of wealth and security so we can go about our daily business comforted in the fact that we are safe. You know, like we hear every time violence strikes a community, that kind of thing just never happens here. Of course it does, it happens anywhere and everywhere. Violence has no geographic limitations and not a single one of them can guarantee our safety. Neither can I, but here’s the difference. I won’t lie to you and make you feel all warm and fuzzy, I’ll give it to you straight. Or gay, what difference does it make? Live and let live, stop telling other people how to live their lives. No red or blue states, united states. United! Like everyone get their shit together and worry about their own lives, mind their own business. We are all one single species, human beings. So if I do decide to run I’m asking you to vote for me not because it’s a change, or I’m not a Politian, but because if you vote for me I’ll set you free! Thanx Y’all Peace out!

 

Anecdote (p.I)

anecdote I

 

Anecdote

(Inspired by the fabulous Welch poet Mr. Zimmerman chose as a namesake)

 

 

In the end we are all just ghosts in the lives of those we encounter that share an importance to our own lives. Life is not a straight line or a cycle but an elaborately moving thread that touches millions of other threads in the ultimate fabric of the universe. Sometimes certain threads become entwined for long periods of time and become part of someone else’s patch of cloth, someone else’s story. Once we are gone our names begin to echo off the canyons of life in search of a legacy. We may never find it here on Mother Earth.

 

 

We are but anecdotes in each others lives

 

The moon smiled as it whispered her name

The wind screamed I love you to the sky

Perhaps a bit too loud

The sun clasped tight the latch of day

Sealing in the evening’s sweet song

Perhaps a bit too short

Gracefully she strutted across my life

I  behind in a cascade of stardust

An anecdote in the wake of her stride

 

 

 

Bound in passions of leather and lace

Squealing the promise of surrender

Bodies wrapped in tenuous pleasure

Tightly clung to our mutual destiny

She held me tight in the eyes of her world

Imprisoned was my weakened soul

Counting each breath in hope eternal

Feeling each beat of her rapturous heart

Knowing my devotions would one day become

A mere anecdote of her days gone by

A short chapter in her story of life

 

 

 

 

 

I peered deeply into my paranoia

The tide waning to an uncertain sea

Together we had floated o’er the oceans

Treacherous waves rising before the storm

Time was at hand

Exchanging glances to reveal our fears

She pulled my face tenderly to her breast

Comforted on her cloud of  compassion

We had entered the phase of our final countdown

We hastily reminisced with the ghosts of the fates

Solitude will be a continuous torture

Who were we, who was I, who am I now?

The years seemed deep and long of tragedies

Alone I face the story’s close

The Lone Protagonist

In the end merely an anecdote

To everyone I’ve ever known

 

The Hard Way

hard way

 

Everything in life is a gamble. The odds vary and the rewards vary and so do the risks. We begin to gamble from our very first breath and we continue to gamble until our last. Money, thrills, careers, love, and life. We gamble because life is a risk and I’ve taken many…….

 

The Hard Way

 

 

Take the long shot

The last toss across

A one roll bet

Curbside knucklebones

Ivory cubes of faith

Don’t make me wait

Give me a sign

Place those dots in line

Seven come eleven

Been so down lately

I’ll take whatever you’re giving

Come what may

This is my life

The hard way

 

Ante up

The chips are down

Feed the kitty

Deal a round

Maybe a boat

Or the dead mans hand

Take me down Broadway Lord

That’s a real plan

Been hitting too many potholes

My tell is showing clear

Been on the losing side of life

Been getting drunk on beer

Life ain’t so great

Just this one time

A royal inside straight

One last draw Lord

The river for my play

Gimme a raise

The hard way

 

Pick a pony pacer

Put me on the fast track

Help me play the odds Lord

A rougher or a mud lark

Long shot or quinella

Odds across the board twice

At least the daily double

Triple would be nice

My Life is in a dead heat

On the dark horse trot

Be the one to beat

Let my luck run hot

A strong one in the chute

Really need a winner

Give me a good one today

That’s my dream

That’s my life

The hard way

 

 

Play them odds

At the table

Fifty to one will work

Praying for a win streak

Just a tiny perk

Been down so long I can’t see up

I’m slow at the pass line

Doubling down on everything

So tired of always losing

stuck on the rotted end

Load it up to let it ride

All in on one bet

Don’t call my bluff

Lord I swear ain’t lying

Give me just one let

All or nothing

Its on the number

Roulette ball is spinning fast

Losing is a bummer

I need a big one

Or I’m cashing in my token

This time I swear I ain’t joking

Giving it all away

And I’ll take my loss

The hard way

 

Time Chase

unfinished

We grab on desperately to our caches of memories petrified that if we lose them we have nothing left. Then on day we realize that those memories are merely vapors from echoes we once screamed from the mountaintops. It’s a tragedy when we run out of life before we run out of time…..

Life running out

Time standing still

Once full of wonder

He’s now had his fill

Behind his old sparkle

The light it grows dim

Underneath the smile

Is a world dark and grim

Running out of verve

But not out of time

Harder day by day

To be towing the line

Don’t let them see it

Don’t let them stare

Light up your candle

Hide from the glare

Condition and acceptance

That’s what they expect

When everything’s gone

You’ll still have respect

Give wink and a nod

Say everything’s great

Life will catch up to them too

Time is our fate

THE ARTIST

artist

 

 

Standing naked before you

Vulnerable and afraid

Anguish in word

Trepidation in song

Emotionally blurred

Trembling brushes

Their soul on display

Frightened waits the artist

Awaiting applause

Fearing the ridicule

But our art is our cause

 

Using potions and lotions to mask our emotions

As we parade our wounds and our scars

For your gratification we suffer frustration

Then go drowning our sorrows at bars

 

A cavalcade of mental lacerations

Through the center of town

See the procession of distressed musings

The Splendor of our pain

In plain sight for all to enjoy

We’ll allow you a glimpse

Into a world of macabre

Struggles we faced

With love we tussle and toil

A labor of love

To help shed a light

Bring radiance to the obscure

Lucidity in an enigmatic abstract

Luster from our souls

Wounded yet strong

Brighten the path of our pith

Allowing you to see into our thoughts

 

To see yourself

Art is a mirror

A reflection of you

Distortedly real

In my mind

Harshly we judge ourselves so the judges won’t give us new pains

We carry on

Enduring torture in living

Tempered by numbness

To help show the way

The teardrops flow at the strum of a string

Someone singing a song of despair

Painful pictures of reality

Or sweet memories to canvass

In word, in song, in pictures

We see life and report

Groaning from lessons so hard

Disparagement festers in my heart

Flowing through my fingertips

Connected to my mind

Creative thought

Born of aches

Shared internal

Shaken from sneers

Fragile

Ready to bare the soul

Reality is sometimes hard

Not always kind

If you’re sighted yet still remain blind

We let you see inside with our creative wings in flight

We struggle in our darkness so you can see the light

Artists…..show them love but

Handle with care

 

HE RAN OUT

he ran

He ran out of life
Before he ran out of time
Imprisoned by thought
Chained to apathy
Searching for more
Finding less

He ran out of light
Before he ran out of fire
Burning with pain
Blisters and tears
Searching for a spark
Finding scorched ash

He ran out of passion
Before he ran out of desire
Weak in the flesh
Dead in the soul
Searching for hope
Finding despair

So he ran out

Anno Domini /from Cosmo and His Garden Earth

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It’s well documented the way Judas betrayed Jesus just before their big dinner but there are a few undocumented occurrences that were left out. To begin with it wasn’t supposed to be ‘The Last Supper’ because it was an awards dinner where Jesus was gonna give props to his twelve disciple pals. Before the dinner began Judas came up to Jesus all doped up on his favorite drug opium. His cognitive abilities challenged he attempted to lay a sloppy French tongue slurping kiss on Jesus while at the same time reaching down to comfort his rod and staff. The J-man became alarmed when his man meat began to respond a bit too eagerly so he pushed Judas away. “Judas please! We’ve been through this before, not in front of the guys. It’s my reputation I want to keep up not my dinghy! They can see my semi right through this thin robe.” Judas feeling spurned (and stoned) began yelling “Cut out the dramatics you know very well you like when I comfort you. Now you cast me like a first stone? That father of yours dammit! Now I’m glad I told that fucking Lucifer where he can find you.” A deathly silence filled the room speaking stereophonic volumes. Judas had thrown the son of god under the chariot bus and the shit was about to hit the windmill. Tears welled up in Jesus’ eyes, “Judas…..must you betray me…. with a kiss?” Jesus was hurt but he also knew this was the plan from his old man so he walked into the Garden of Gethsemane with his head and dinghy hanging down. The rest as they say is scripture. As for Judas he was stoned and remorseful so he went back to Lucifer for something stronger to dull his heartache. Lucifer needing to rid himself of the bastard betrayer gave him a dosage way too strong and Judas OD’ed. Judas was found dead in the mud with a contoured confused look on his dead face. By the time Cosmo and Mary Anne returned from the District their son Jesus was dead on a cross.
The sight of the young man nailed to a wooden cross filled Cosmo to the brim with shock. Shock and anger. His beloved youmans had not only lost their way, they had killed the only son. What was even worse for the mourning couple was how violently they killed him. The thought of his son tortured, thorns stuck in his head, nails hammered into his hands and feet, left in the hot sun was too much to bear. Jesus was left to die all alone. Angered Cosmo turned his back on his youmans and headed back to the District with Mary Anne to be with fake Jesus, the child who had become Jesus’ body double. There they would remain for eighteen hundred and twenty three years. It took them that long to reach the final stage of their grieving process. One morning they just agreed it was time to go back to check out garden earth. Cosmo had been gone far too long. They returned just in time to see some dude named Louis Pasteur had figured out the world of tiny little organisms he called germs. Puzzled at these germs Cosmo spoke gently to Mary Anne, “Pius defecation, what the fornication has been going on here?” He needed to review what had been going on in his garden during his absence so they went straight to the surveillance videotapes.
Sans popcorn or any mood enhancing Cosmo and Mary Anne viewed the video on the giant abstract flat screen. They watched the various stages of growth the garden had undergone since their son was killed. Some of it was appalling and some of it endearing. Overall Cosmo was filled with more disappointment than pride. “Look at all this Mary, all the wars, famines, and diseases on Earth! What the burning underworld could they be fighting over?” Mary Anne had majored in Modern Galactic Sociology and was able to grasp the situations well. “Cosmo, these battles they have been waging seem to have two things in common. Arbitrary lines of land ownership and the belief in different gods. They believe they can own part of the garden all for themselves and created lines which they kill to protect. They have formed religions and each religion believes it has all the answers and they are willing to kill any who disagree. Me thinks they have been killing each other for so long half the times they’ve forgotten why. Look at all these atrocities Babe, wars fought in Rome and France between protestants and Catholics, Sudanese war between Christians and Arabs, The Crusades, The Inquisition, not to mention something they call world wars. My sweet nebula what have they done to the memory of our son?” Mary Anne was on the money. The youmans believed it to be garden youman not garden earth. They lock up animals, experiment on animals, why some were even using animals as entertainment, either killing or being killed for youmans pleasure. Cosmo threw up a little in his mouth, “It’s true my love, they have blighted the memory of our son and used Jesus as an excuse to kill and maim. Its deplorable. And these germ things have caused deadly plagues, measles, anthrax, rabies, typhus, small pox, and the bubonic plague. The Black Death. The Bubonic plague that spread everywhere and claimed over 75 million lives. How could those micro-organisms possibly have gotten in my garden?” Mary Anne thought carefully before giving her opinion. The persons name she was about to use was a source of discomfort in their relationship. Not sure why because Cosmo did after all know what kind of work Mary Anne did before they became a cosmic power couple so he knew she had been with others. Even so Cosmo is a god and gods have major ego’s and relationship issues. Of course he had godpenis envy so he was not happy that Mary Anne had sexual history with Mychrighton. “I’m not sure I should mention this or not babe but Mychrighton is pretty well known for his experiments in micro-organism in the Andromeda Strain Galaxy.” Too upset to allow jealousy to sneak into his thought pattern without a hint of injured pride he mulled over her statement. In fact it was an a-ha moment for Cosmo. “Of course, the pathogen killer. Mychreigton had used satellites to destroy his own creations with micro-organism warfare. He would have destroyed them completely if not for the brilliant Lucille of the Babaloo galaxy.” Lucille developed and introduced the Kalocin antidote into the Andromeda Strain. Her brilliant work became a universal antidote which is still used today. “I have to figure out a way to introduce Kalocin in the garden. Maybe we can get this Pasteur guy to think he discovered it.” If Cosmo had dropped Lucille’s name on purpose to counter the subconscious feeling of jealousy it worked. Mary Anne’s face reddened ever so slightly and she angrily reminded herself of the once hot and heavy relationship that was all the rage in the District gossip papers. She thought about firing back with another comment about Mychrighton but took the high road because of the important work ahead.
The two agreed to forge a plan to save the garden and figure out a trap to ensnare the demon seed that was planting demon seeds. Part one was to get the youmans to discover ways to combat the deadly pathogens and hopefully lead up at one point to Kalocin. They believed if they could show the youmans that if they continue on this path of making weapons so destructive it would threaten the existence of the garden it would stop wars. As for the god thing, they hoped that by educating the youmans more about the universe that they would all agree on one theory of how life began and stop killing people who threaten their god or gods. They noted how the youmans had already made giant strides in knowledge. The youmans had figured out mathematics and use abstract thinking and reasoning to solve problems. It’s helped them have a better understanding of their world and introduced the concept of shared education, especially science. Between the various fields of study they were certain the youmans would come to the conclusion that the universe was not created by God and therefore would stop warring. In theory anyway. From simple abacus to Fibonacci and his brilliant scale great minds have developed on earth. “Mary honey, look at some of the intelligent youmans that were in the garden. We had Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, Copernicus, and Galileo to mention a few.” Mary loved to play and said loudly, “What about Marco?” Cosmo chuckled and responded with a quick “Polo!” But Cosmo had more to say. “Yes and not just them, men like Columbus, Magellan, Isaac Newton, they have made tremendous contributions and created things meant for the progress of their species.” Mary Anne had her favorites as well. “Don’t forget Sam an his Morse code, or Jethro Tull and his seed drill. Not to mention Joan of Arc.” The playful jab did not go unnoticed but Cosmo was already thinking ahead. ”Uh huh, many people have had many contributions and with a little nudging we can get the youmans going in the right direction. But we do have to deal with old Mikey boy first. What to do about him?”
What indeed. A very touchy situation especially considering what happened in the past. But this is a different day and a different situation. Cosmo had to come up with a plan to prove that Mychrighton was behind the dabcle sneaking his destructive microscopic killers onto his garden. Up until now the germs an pathogens in his garden were all beneficial. First step was to make sure it wasn’t a natural mutation of the beneficial microbes. Cosmo had to isolate some of the killer disease carriers. He needed to employ the help of a friend. Who can he trust? Not Lucy, that would be a bit too awkward, and James, well James has enough issues with the return of the Klingon wars. The best person for this job is the always Jovial Frodo. Road trip to The Shire!
TBC